Page 313 of Eternal
So, I didn’t, I kept smiling into his neck and let him pull me under one more time.
Now I’m here, slightly drunk in a tub in a city that chews people like me alive, listening to sad songs and pretending I’m not lonely.
Because I felt seen, and I don’t know how to be okay with that.
I hate this, I hate howgoodit felt. I hate that he’s probably still in that bed, shirtless and smug and glowing with the kind of quiet softness I haven’t seen since I was a kid.
And most of all? I hate that I want to go back.
But instead, I drink. Because some memories don't drown, they float.
And I’ve got to sink a little deeper just to breathe.
I stepped out of the bath slowly, grabbing the towel. I passed the mirror without thinking I’d look, but then the bruises caught my eye, dark, spreading bruises on the inside of my thigh. One on my ribs, and a bite mark near my collarbone, like he wanted to leave something behind.
I touched it, pressing my fingers into the sore skin. It felt like his mouth was still there.
He kissed me a lot there, held me longer than anyone else ever had. So now I was marked by him, andyeah, I liked that more than I probably should.
Zanae invited me tonight for dinner tonight, the last day here, and I just want to have fun before going back to Vegas.
I picked out the pants first, navy blue, the exact shade of his eyes when he looks at me in the dark.
Tonight, I was wearing them for him.
The shirt was white and crisp, loose in the right places, sleeves rolled up enough to show the tattoos on my arms, the tie hung loose and low, kind of undone across my chest.
I don’t usually dress for anyone but myself, but tonight I wanted to be seen, and he said he liked my curly hair. So, I left it wild, exactly how it dries when I don’t fight it.
I slapped on a line of dark lipstick and then smeared it with my finger.
The vodka bottle was still half full on the sink. My cheeks were flushed, maybe he’d notice I’d had a drink before dinner.
I stared at myself, shirt half unbuttoned, collar loose, tie swinging when I moved. My scars showed…some of them.
My phone buzzed on the counter, and his name lit up the screen.
Damir
I’m waiting for you. Can’t wait to see what you’re wearing.
I snorted and typed back:
Me
The gun or the knife?
Damir
Doesn’t matter. As long as it’s strapped to those pretty thighs.
Me
Perv.
I grabbed my bag and phone and headed downstairs. His car was parked out front, and he was already sitting there, staring straight ahead.
He didn’t even see me when I opened the door and slid into the seat, or maybe he did and only wanted to be dramatic.
